


when they said they needed a vacation, they didn't mean like this

by foxmulder_whereartthou



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Canon Related, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Phase Three (Gorillaz), eep, i fucking love sydney from rancidpepper, ive had this idea in my head for ages, ok so, plastic beach, they dont post anymore but!!! i had to i love the character too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmulder_whereartthou/pseuds/foxmulder_whereartthou
Summary: sydney is almost ten and she just wants her dad back.set during phase 3. sydney belongs to @rancidpepper on tumblr, i love her too much to not use her.sydney is one of 2D's canon illegitamate children whom in this au, he raises alongside the band.as i said before, she's not mine, she's rancidpepper's.i've wanted to write this for a while, enjoy!





	when they said they needed a vacation, they didn't mean like this

Sydney is nine and she’s colouring in their bedroom in Beirut. Her dad is singing along to a tune on the radio, something mindless with a nice bassline, and she’s so grateful to be here with him. It’s a lovely day; and her dad looks so much more happy away from that man. 

 

Sydney is nine and her dad leaves to go check on their tea - but she knows he’s really only going because he loves the window in there, you can see all the street below. He’s still humming, but then she smells something odd and unfamiliar, and the singing abruptly stops.

 

Sydney is nine and a loud crash permeates the room, and her head lolls forward as she blacks out. When she wakes, crayon still in hand, it’s the next morning, and her dad is gone.

 

Sydney is nine and she fishes the burner phone out of the back closet, the one only for emergencies. She’s had this protocol burned into her mind by her dad, so well she could do it with a blindfold on, but her hands still shake as she fumbles with the phone and taps down the list of contacts. After only two rings, the recipient picks up, their voice panicked and heavy.

 

Sydney is nine and she’s on a port with Russel, a pink backpack clutched to her chest. The sand is grimy and horrible, so she can’t go on it, but she’s so preoccupied with sobbing into Russel’s shoulder she doesn’t even care. 

 

Sydney is nine and now she knows her dad has been kidnapped by him. They’re travelling through the ocean to get to him, and day by day, despite the only food being some out-of-date granola bars in Sydney’s backpack, Russel keeps growing bigger. It’s so cold at night, but she doesn’t care; the view across the ocean at twilight is something she’d die for. 

 

Sydney is nine and they find Noodle, drifting through the waves with a guitar and some supplies. She’s playing the riff to 5/4 when they find her, and Sydney expects her dad’s voice to chime in, but the only sound filling her ears is the waves. She’s sick of salt - and she’s so dehydrated from crying at Noodle’s discovery she curses whatever force there is for filling the earth with water but making it undrinkable.

 

Sydney is nine and the waves aren’t the only sound anymore, she hears guns. The big ones, like in those zombie movies her dad loves. Loved? They pray day and night that he’s not been swallowed by that horrid man’s ego yet. She sees pink and green and white and swirling, helicopter-steel black: they’re almost there.

 

Sydney is nine and she sees double. Another Noodle sits beside that green terror on the artificial shoreline, gun pumping rounds at a figure in a gas mask. And when she slips beneath the trash-ridden waters to catch Noodle’s dropped pick, she swears she sees her dad, hidden away, cowering in an underground cavern.

 

* * *

 

Sydney is ten and her dad is here, on the plastic beach, bleeding from the nose. She’s hugging him so tight that their thin frames fit together, and it’s both poetic and pathetic, as he kisses her forehead and gunfire rages around them.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like half an hour if you can't tell.  
> i just had to get the ideas out.


End file.
